hurt

drip
drip
drip
blotches of red
on white canvas
mars the picture perfect world
that i have drawn within
my mind.

Hurt.
Stark, deep,
when it invades the idealism
i hold so dear
the lofty principles that i sadly cling to
believing that the world will one day see
beyond me
beyond what makes me.

it is now that i see
reality.
money is perhaps everything.
and because it means nought to me
i will have to live through it –
a blotch of red
permanently etched
on my stark white canvas.




there are people sizing you up wherever you go. your shoes, your clothes, your bag, your social standing. you mean nothing if you don't belong. you cease to become a luxury of acquaintance. you become a necessity that one must live with, when one wants to. society and its ways!